


Sensucht

by Mystic_Shadows



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Shadows/pseuds/Mystic_Shadows
Summary: She never looked nice. She looked like art...and art was supposed to make you feel something.--Rainbow Rowell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Sensucht

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble- the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

"You really don't remember me?" The question came out, tone confused and a.. little hurt.

Graham ran his eyes over the lady in front of him- she was shorter than him-barely- and was wearing a bright red coat. 

"Fashion statement aside, mate, you'd be hard to forget. If there is a next time, I promise to not make that mistake again." Graham smirked.

"Guess you remind me of someone I used to know."

"I have that kind of face. Enjoy the show." After letting her outside, he went back to the lightboard. 

"Nice looking Sheila, eh?" Another technician ran by.

Graham went through the rest of the play on autopilot with the techs’ words in mind. Nice. Nice looking sheila. Nice? Nice… wasn’t the word. The lady in red found him after the play, asking if he’d be her guide in the Outback. He gave her the address to the cafe he visits on Fridays and took a chance. “I’ll be there Friday at 8. You?” Her response was non-committal, something about surviving her tour. But he finally got her name. Carmen. 

His chest twisted as he watched her leave. Carmen. The name didn’t fit her. It was wrong. It was like a wire had gotten crossed somewhere. Carmen. It was a nice name, rolled off the tongue nicely. Carmen. But it wasn’t her name. 

Friday came and Graham went through the motions again, his mind on the lady in red. He wondered if she would show up. He wondered why his chest twinged every time he thought about her. He arrived early to the cafe and waited, glancing at his watch every few minutes. She was...she was standing across the street. He stood up, ready to greet her. She looked at him and smiled. A bus drove by and she disappeared. Graham looked both ways. But the lady in red had disappeared. He sat back down and frowned at the concrete. He didn’t understand. Why would she show up if she wasn’t going to come? Why had she been familiar? Why..Why did his heart twist when he thought of her? 

“Nice looking Sheila, eh?” rang in his mind again. Nice wasn’t the word for her. Nice was a word you used when you didn’t like whatever you were looking at, but you didn’t want to insult it either. Nice was an overused word. A useless word. A useless description. She wasn’t nice. She was..she was art.


End file.
